As Yet Untitled
by unfold
Summary: Alternate Nag Hammadi. Literati. It's a good feeling, not wanting to puch a hole in the wall. Reviews are a writer's candy.


**A/N: Ah. The obligatory alternate Nag Hammadi fic. This was completely random and done late at night, keep that in mind. **

"I love you."

And then there is a large, hesitant, suffocating, mind numbing, intense pause. His hands are freezing. It's too cold tonight for long pauses. Short pauses, maybe. Not long ones. Not long cliff hanger sort of pauses.

"Okay." Her eyes are confused. It doesn't matter. She doesn't really need to understand, that isn't the point.

"Okay." He wants to walk away now, but he's still standing there. He meant to just say it and leave. But, he's never been one to stick to the plan.

He remembers what else he was supposed to say. "I'm sorry." He probably should've said that first. The order's fine, though. It still gets the message across. "About last year. All of it."

She stands there, motionless, wordless, looking at him. Through him, really. Is she absorbing any of this? He can't tell. She shifts on her feet and for some reason he feels relieved at the small movement. It means she is aware of what is happening, what he's saying to her.

"All of it?"

"Yeah." He puts his hands in his pockets for warmth. "Us, in general."

"Oh." Her voice is distant. They're standing far away from each other. He's afraid to move closer, even though he wants to. He thinks if he's closer it'll be easier to talk.

"You regretted choosing me from the beginning. The moment we were together, you knew it was the wrong choice."

Her eyes snap back to life. "That's not true."

"Sure it is." It's simple. She wanted another Dean. He wasn't another Dean.

"Then…why?"

He isn't sure what she wants a reason for. But, he gives her this. "With you, I was happy. I wasn't angry. I liked not being angry. It's a good feeling, not wanting to punch a hole in the wall."

"Yeah…I'm sure it is." She moves closer to him. He is stunned that she is making the first move. Granted, she only moved a few feet, this isn't an intimate sort of closeness, just closer than before. She reaches out for his arm and pulls his right hand out of his pocket. "I remember these scars." She looks up at him and smiles an innocent sort of smile.

"Do you remember the dates?" He raises his eyebrows in inquiry.

"Is this a pop quiz?"

"Maybe." He's surprised that his voice isn't shaking. His entire body feels like it's shaking. She's touching him. This is honest skin to skin contact.

She bites her lip and tries to remember. "This one." She points to one of the larger scars on the knuckle of his middle finger. "June 16th, 1998. You were 13 and your mom never came home that night."

"So, I made myself a bread sandwich and punched a hole in the living room wall when I saw an ad for Jiff peanut butter."

He shouldn't be smiling. The memory actually brings up bile in the back of his throat and there is a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. But, she's gradually getting closer to him and he can smell her now. So, he smiles despite the painful memory and urges her to guess at another scar.

"Uh…This one." Smaller, on his ring finger. "This is my favorite. July 21st, 2002." She looks up at him with a strange gleam in her eye and laughs. "Me."

"I saw Dean mailing you a letter with this ridiculous smile on his face." He gives her a questioning look. "You like that I punched a wall for you."

"Come on, there's something romantic about it. Me, off in DC. You here, alone, thinking about me and going crazy with want and jealousy. It's a nice thought. Sort off."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to deal with Luke when he saw the hole in the wall. Spent the rest of the day plastering it up."

She's allowed her fingers to entwine themselves with his and her other hand is resting on his chest now. They are mere centimeters apart.

He wants to kiss her, but he thinks that she's gotten over it. That it's been a year and he should let her move on. No point in dragging her back into this again. He's going to leave, anyway. He has to go back to the city.

Yet, somehow, his free hand is on her cheek, pulling her closer to him. Apparently, his hands have their own intentions tonight. Just before his mouth is about to meet hers, he thinks he hears her muttering almost inaudibly, "This is stupid, this is stupid…" over and over. But, he's kissing her before he can know for sure.

Confirmation comes when he pulls back and she lets the word fall from her mouth, "Stupid."

He quickly shoves his hands back into his pockets. "I have to go."

She nods. "Bye."

He turns and walks back to his car. "Stupid."


End file.
